


After the Heyday: Diamonds and Pearls and Pruney Toes

by godsdaisiechain (preux)



Series: After the Heyday [1]
Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Competent!Bertie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Homophobia, Infidelity, M/M, Nostalgia, Paris (City), Period-Typical Homophobia, Reunions, Separations, Weeping, hints of WW2, slippers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-11
Packaged: 2017-11-28 17:20:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/676941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/preux/pseuds/godsdaisiechain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>for Fan_flashworks challenges: Masks, Elusive or Ephemeral, Introductions and Diamonds and Pearls</p><p>Bertie and Jeeves have been an item for oh-so-long and neither can imagine a life apart from each other.  What are they willing to do to stay together?  What can they overcome? </p><p>Warnings: Jeeves gets weepy. Bertie is masterful. Homophobia torments them at home and war looms in the background.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jeeves and the Doubts that Assail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie and Jeeves continue an ongoing argument over a pair of carpet slippers purchased by Rocky Todd. What will happen when Rocky arrives for an unexpected visit?

I caught sight of Jeeves’s map one day in an unguarded moment and the scales fell from the e.s. Had I ever seen my man, the real m. behind the mask? Had I ever let him see the real Wooster B? Jeeves had long been the one true fixture of the Wooster heart.  Was I his or had he accepted because of the comforts of our situation? Were these feelings of anxiety real?  Was it the seven year itch?  Or was I merely frightened at the way inverts were being attacked and imprisoned?

I started and dropped a tennis raquet, and he looked up in surprise, then dismay, and then a look of absolute disgust crossed his dial before he started over to me.  A chill ran through Bertram.  What if we fell afoul of each other? What if the mentally negligible bean disgusted him and he only managed to hold back with a hercu-something-or-other effort?

“I, er, should be toddling to the club, Jeeves,” I gasped, then looked down and realized I was still in my pajamas and dressing gown.

He put an arm around me and pressed the lips to my forehead. “You’re trembling. Are you cold? I wish you would stop wearing those revolting carpet slippers.”

“Carpet slippers?”

“Yes, Bertie.  Your toes protrude through the numerous unsightly holes. You always become chilled when you wear them.”

“And that is why you looked so revolted just now?”

The Jeevesian dial was a study in perplexity and consternation. “You know I hate those slippers, my love.” Yes, he did. They had been a present and I had refused to give them up because they reminded me of the giver. Jeeves, because they reminded him of the g. also, had refused to mend them and I had had to trade all sorts of favors to save them from the rag pile.

“And not my mental vacuity, if that is the word I want?”

His jaw dropped open like a nutcracker. “Darling, what are you saying?”

Wooster spilled the beans, all the agonies that had gnawed at the heart like ravening wolves eating  _timbale de riz de veau Toulousiane_.  How could a cove as splendid and handsome and intelligent as Reginald Jeeves really truly love Bertram? He seemed biffed about the bean, then wounded to the core, and then bally pipped and the arm dropped from about the slender corpus, leaving the frame bereft and forlorn. “How could you think such a thing?”

“I caught sight of you just now, so bare and agonized, Reg.  I’ve never spied such an expression on your dial.  And, suddenly all the doubts that assail… er, assailed.”

He shook with the effort of controlling his voice. “Bertram, I know you cannot help these feelings.  But please consider, I have loved you exclusively for nearly ten years, and remained with you, despite the very real dangers of our situation. This breaks my heart.” Wooster welled up and the tears spilled. He wiped at them, trembling with some emotion I could not identify.  Whatever were we going to do? He gathered me against him and murmured something comforting, then he grew serious.  “I know it pains you, as it does me, but we really must make a decision, darling.  We must part or we must flee.”

“I know, Reggie. I wish it were not so.”

“As do I, my love.”

I bathed and dressed and oozed off to the club. As I trickled home, the heart lifted at the thought of seeing Jeeves, and suddenly I realized I could never give him up, that he was more important than everything else.  When I opened the door, the glad cries died on my lips. The grate was cold and empty. No smell of cooking wafted out to greet.  

Worst of all, my battered carpet slippers had been carefully mended and set out near my favorite chair, beside my recent mystery novel. This was ominous. The heart shattered in the Wooster breast. And then a voice arrested me before the tears could flow.

“Bertie!” I found myself engulfed in the manly embrace of Rocky Todd, which put me in mind of years gone by. “I can’t believe you still have those slippers!”

“Rocky, old chap!  It’s been what?”

“Nearly ten years, Bertie.  Imagine my joy on receiving that cable.”  He took in the slippers again and a look like that of a moonstruck bovine emerged from his map.

“Cable?”

“You sly dog, Bertie.  You invited me out for the week while Jeeves was gone to Paris.”  He flapped the missive in my face and planted a juicy kiss on the Wooster lips. I started and apologized.

“Er, Rocky, I, ah. Ten years, is it?”  He apologized.  “Would you like a drink, perhaps?  And then we can dine at my club, if you like. Are your things in the guest room?” He laughed and slapped me on the arm and I recalled, with a shudder, his distaste for evening wear.  “Jeeves left a letter on your pillow.”

I poured Rocky a snifter and ankled in and retrieved the letter.

 

_Sir_ _I apologize for the necessity of leaving before seeing you again, but I imagined that it would be for the best. I took the liberty of inviting Mr. Todd to visit you for some days to ease your loneliness.  If you require a valet, I have left directions at the agency.  Letters can be addressed to me at Junior Ganymede, and I will be able to receive cables at the Moderate_ _Your servant_ _R. Jeeves_

Be it not said that the Woosters are cowardly.  The heart had shattered and the slivers had been ground to dust, yet I girt the loins and slapped a cheerful smile on the face and crawled out to have dinner and see a show with Rocky and as many other coves as I could gather up.  I could only hope that my duties as a host would not require any entertainment between the sheets, but thankfully Jeeves had hired a hotel room for Rocky

 

I sent a cable from the Drones.

 

_Jeeves. STOP What the thingummy do you mean by all this whatsit? STOP Dash it all! STOP BWW._

 

I dropped Rocky off at his hotel after supper and found two telegrams at the flat.

 

_Sir, circumstances required my presence. STOP Please do not trouble yourself about me. STOP Your respectful servant. RJ_

And

 

_Blot. STOP  A foul rumor regarding Jeeves reached me today. STOP He is in danger and must leave England immediately.  STOP Love, Travers._

 

Blast.  Wooster oozed into the bed and sobbed himself to sleep, leaving the mended carpet slippers unheeded by the favorite chair.


	2. Jeeves at La PLace de la Concorde

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeeves's perspective. Having fled to Paris on the heels of an unpleasant rumor, Jeeves finds himself thinking back on days gone by and fearing for the future.

_Daydream in Paris_

I arrived in Paris on the heels of a terrible rumor.  Anatole, Mrs. Travers’ chef, had become very inebriated while a guest at the Drones Club and began to praise my manly attributes in a way that was grossly misunderstood.  Luckily, a friend called in at the Junior Ganymede Club and I was able to effect an escape, confident that Mr. Wooster would understand what had happened and follow me to our safe haven within a fortnight. An immediate removal would have raised suspicions, and Mr Rockmeteller Todd, an old friend of Mr. Wooster’s from the United States, had come to London to meet with a publisher. Thus, I felt no misgivings at first.

Weeks passed and I heard nothing from my young master. I ought to have known that Mr. Wooster would never be able to choose to leave England, that he had counted on me to manipulate our situation so that he was left without a real choice. The time passed, not unpleasantly, among my numerous acquaintances and friends in the city.  Few had heard of my predicament and I found that Mrs. Travers had managed to quiet the situation, but still I heard no word of Mr. Wooster.

I wandered through the  _Place de la Concorde,_ feeling lonely and sore at heart. My thoughts strayed to my last conversation with Mr. Wooster.  We had been having our usual argument over the pair of carpet slippers Mr. Todd had given him during a visit in New York. My young master had remained resolutely attached to them for reasons that eluded me.  I knew they had some type of sentimental value and on occasion, an ephemeral twinge of jealousy would stir my heart.  I wondered whether he and Mr. Todd had ever had carnal relations.  Now that we had been separated for some weeks, I began to fear that Mr. Wooster and Mr. Todd had rekindled a relationship.  The deep, agonizing hurt was as nothing compared to my terror at the danger those two gentle, flighty men could face if they were discovered.

Tears started in my eyes, and I found my way to a low wall.  I sat and let my mind wander to the first tender encounter between my master and myself. We were in New York together, and it was just after Ms. Rockmetteller had encouraged her nephew to return to his riparian entertainments. I had been surprised and grateful that Mr. Wooster and Mr. Todd afforded me the opportunity to enjoy the New York night life like a man of leisure.  During those most enjoyable hours, I was able to observe my master’s pleasures and also come to understand why he longed for quieter pursuits as he grew older.

Mrs. Gregson had cautioned my master in the most animated terms not to allow me to form ideas above my station.  She had been correct. Seeing Mr. Wooster out on the dance floor, drinking with other young men, smiling and laughing at his ease had inflamed my desires.  I formed ideas well above my station.  In fact, I formed designs on my young, impressionable master, but I was uncertain how to proceed.  I found myself tending to him with more than usual care and consideration.

One evening, Mr. Wooster had more to drink than usual and, as we discussed the events of the day, began to play a romantic melody. For the first time in our association, Mr. Wooster had surprised me, genuinely surprised me, and I began to see all the fine qualities he had been holding back.  I had gone to his side with another whiskey and he slid over to make room for me on the bench.  I sat, and we played.  At the end of the tune, he stopped and took my hand, an unspoken question playing on his face.

“Jeeves, I ah, well, dash it, Jeeves, if you understand what I mean.”

I leaned in toward his delectable lips, pausing just before our mouths touched.  Mr. Wooster closed the gap, and we shared a very tender kiss.  Never had I felt anything like the sensations that coursed through my body at his touch.  He had risen, still holding my hand, and led me to the bedchamber where we kissed and touched and slowly undressed each other. I had imagined such encounters to be rougher and more athletic, but his gentle attentions brought me to an early, gasping release that took us both by surprise.  “Sorry, old fruit,” he’d murmured into my ear while I lay trembling helplessly in his arms. “I didn’t realize.” He never voiced more, never asked about my inexperience in these matters.

Over the months and years we had perfected our lovemaking, and eventually pledged to remian together forever.  That had been nearly ten years ago.  In the past few years, I began to understand the dangers we faced as social attitudes tightened against men of our stamp. Although I wanted desperately to flee, I had not wanted to force Mr. Wooster’s decision.  And it was not until I had been in Paris for some weeks that I realized that he may have misunderstood why I mended the carpet slippers Mr. Todd had given him.  I had wanted to give the impression that Mr. Wooster took the slippers out in honor of the visit, not that I hoped he and Mr. Todd would renew their affections, if they had ever enjoyed such affections.

I struggled to identify my feelings and I could think only one thing.

Dash it all.


	3. Jeeves and the Pruney Toes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bertie finally ankles forth to Paris, only to find Jeeves weeping in the bath. Jeeves must share a terrible secret. Will they be able to reconcile?

Bertram knows not when the weeping motive introduced itself into the fray.  It had already begun by the time the willowy form flowed into the Paris flat. And it was up to Wooster to stop it. The weeping, not the Paris flat.

Jeeves had gone off to Paris after some scandalous rumors reached him. Deuced Anatole was eating with Bingo Little and started praising Jeeves’s strapping corpus and talk ensued. Jeeves had been a part of the Wooster entourage for so long, and Wooster had all those bohemian pals. Aunt Dahlia shushed it up and I expected Jeeves to return, but he stayed away. Deuced heartbreaking. And, after some further weeks had passed, Wooster had finally registered that Jeeves had not abandoned him to the mercies of a visiting Rocky Todd.

Of course, Rocky was the one who unblinkered the Wooster.  We were at the Drones and he was drunk and nearly turned out for taking off his tie and hooting about the din of the city. Bertram was in the process of adjusting a rather natty Windsor knot at his throat.  He smiled blearily and I thought what an adorable young muffin he could have been if Jeeves was not ensconced in the heart. “Oh, Bertie,” he slurred.  “It’s just like the time I gave you those slippers. Don’t you like me just a little?”

“I am sorry old fruit,” I said, “It’s simply not the done thing.”

He smiled at me sadly. “It was then. And you had some other excuse."

“Whatsis?”

“You said that it was not congenial. That you loved where you could not win  and your heart could not admit another. I always thought Jeeves was behind it. You never use words like congenial. I’ll bet he saved the slippers just to tease me.”

The scales sprang from the e.s. No wonder Jeeves had mended those blasted slippers.  They had been a bone of contention in the home, but I treasured them because Rocky had shown me how very much I loved Jeeves.  What a pal.

As I had all those years ago, I felt positively awash with friendly affection for Rocky.  And I assured him that he was among the most congenial of my mates, but I’d been separated from my true love and the heart could not admit another.  He collapsed in a drunken heap.  Luckily, Bingo was about and came to help me bung him into his hotel.

A thoughtful Bertram trickled to the empty London home.  I had been sundered from true love for quite a while. And we hadn’t had a nice tumble in ever so many weeks before Rocky arrived.  Allons-y a Paris, it was, then.

 

The Paris flat was uncharawhatsits untidy when I tooled in after a stream of porters conveying numerous bags and boxes and trunks.  I’d informed the London crowd that I was going on an around-the-world cruise, which justified packing all manner of folderol. I assumed Jeeves was out when I heard a strangled choking emanating from the vicinity of the bath.  I ankled in and found the poor chap curled up in the tub, head between the knees, one hand stuffed in his mouth, simply shuddering with sobs. The water had gone cold and his fingers and toes were all wrinkly.

“Ah, Reg,” I unstoppered the tub and kept an arm about him, patting the back and draping him with towels until I could get him wrapped him up in a towelling robe and in the bed.  The sheets reeked of sweat and smoke.  He must have had a rough time of it, pruney darling. I sat him down and shed my own wet things and then curled up with him under the covers and soothed him to sleep. I maybe wept a bit, but just in manly sympathy for the dear chap, not in shame for having been such a dolt.

As he slumbered, I oozed about the place, setting things to rights and then sending a chap off to carry in a dinner.  The guest bed was clean and made up nicely, so I bundled up towels for the laundry and the trash and got the fellow to see to them.

I set the dinner in the oven to keep warm and trickled in to see if Jeeves was awake. He was staring up at the ceiling with red, puffy eyes, breathing heavily, his fingers still all wrinkly like little raisins.  The bean reminded me of why we had not had a tumble in so many weeks. I had been feeling very guilty about something, very guilty indeed.

I sat at the side of the bed and took his hand. “Reg?”

“Oh, Bertram,” he whispered.  “I am sorry to greet you like this.”

“No, no, Reg.  I should have wired you.”

He chuckled. “You did.” A crumpled cable sat on the table.

“Then why did you…?”  He raised an eyebrow and then closed his eyes and stifled a sob.

 

To R. Jeeves

Rocky oozed back to New York although not in his pajamas. STOP

Good old Ginger taking me about the town STOP

See how wrong you were about all that folderol with the slippers? STOP

Prepare for news. STOP

BWW

 

Ah.  As a composition, it perhaps lacked a certain something.  Mayhaps sense and content. Particularly as Ginger had been an ardent pursuer from time to time. I whiffled into a mortified kitchen and Jeeves staggered behind in his dressing gown, lured forth by the smell of dinner. “I thought you formed an attachment to Mr. Winship.  He has been pursuing you for months.” Ginger had done this off and on since Oxford and I was certain it was simply a phase.

The knees nearly folded. “Oh, Reg. How do you know every secret I try to keep?”

The heart within him melted at my distress, and he folded me against him. “Because you told me.”

“I did?”

“You did.” He stroked the golden head.

“Ah, er, when?”

“You came back home at dawn, inebriated.  And when I appeared upset, you told me that you only narrowly avoiding committing a serious sexual indiscretion with Mr. Winship by feigning loss of consciousness. You seemed to expect congratulations.” That particular oompus-boompus had caused quite a tear in the Wooster heart. Jeeves had been like an icicle for weeks and it had taken months to reconcile chummy relations with Ginger.  “I, of course, imagine, that there had been some less serious indiscretion in the case.”

“Reg, I am simply unworthy.”

He colored and shifted. “I am…”

I pshawed and waved this off.  We’d both been engaged so many times. “You did not actually marry any of those beazels, Reg.”

“But I did…”

I started and his arms fell away again. “You married one of them?”

He went a strange color and then he introduced the indiscretion motive again. “No, of course not, but I had relations…” It took a moment to understand what type of relations, then I had to excuse myself to expel the scant contents of the Wooster stomach--I'd subsisted on toast and tea and brandy over the past few days.  Jeeves held up my forehead and helped me rinse my mouth and the sink. He apologized fulsomely. We were both in such a state.

Whatever were we to do? “Reg, whatever are we to do?”

His bean had gone the color of farina. “Do you want to leave me? I cannot blame you, after my heinous indiscretion.”

I grabbed at him desperately. “No. It’s simply the idea of your putting your lovely man parts into…. I’ve had them in my mouth, you know.”  I shuddered again and thought over the circs. “We were in some type of danger?” He nodded, still whey-faced

“We had been so indiscreet.  It was the only way I could devise to maintain the proper mask.” He stammered, voice cracking,resting his bean on my shoulder.

“You wanted to avert suspicions?”  He nodded.

“We were indiscreet?  No… wait. I was.”

“I would never say…” his voice cracked again

The poor chap was shaking in every limb.  “You must know, Reg. I signed the heart over to your care years ago.”  He huffed out his breath.

“I do not want to leave you, Bertie.”  We stood for some time, clinging to each other.

Finally his growling belly broke the silence. He flushed a deep red.  “I have not eaten since your cable arrived the day before yesterday.”

I cupped his puffy, tear-reddened face fondly.  “Sit down, Reg, and I’ll bung up the plates.” The poor chap had ravelled the sleave of thingummy in the worst way. We ate, but the tension was still thicker than a deep and hearty pea soup and a question burned in the Wooster co-co-nut.

 

“I have something for you,” I said finally. I oiled to my steamer trunk and retrieved a key and unlocked a drawer and fished out some financial papers I’d kept secret from him. It was good policy to keep separate accounts and advisors, Uncle George always said. I forked the old papyrus over.  His map went grey and he sank down onto the setee.

“I had no idea….” I sat on the arm and mussed his hair.  It had dried all curly and adorable, just the way I liked. “And you intended so much for me? Even after we…?” He choked a bit and rested the onion against my waistcoat.

“I love you,” I said. “It’s…I did not want you to be left in need.”

“I have ample savings.”

“I have gotten you accustomed to a certain style of living.”  I stood. “Now give me your hand.” I knelt down and pulled out a ring and promptly the old lemon emptied itself. I stammered and tears rolled down Jeeves’s dial. “I offer you even unto all my heart.”

“Bertram, are you certain? Of course I will be yours. I am yours already, but this is too much.”

“I was going to suggest a honeymoon, and I believe it is customary to share out the goods and chattels beforehand.”

He smiled and then turned the ring on his finger. “You must have had this ring made for me during our last trip to Florence.”

“Er, whatsit?” He held up the box, and pointed out the name of the jeweler. I flushed and he kissed me.

“You are so terribly dear.” I’d always imagined that we would be all over each other like a virulent rash at such a moment, but we were both wrung out like damp tea towels.  He pulled me up beside him and we snuggled for a limp moment.  Then he excused himself. After some minutes, I noticed him kneeling on the floor. “Reggie, whatever are you… ?”  Words failed as he opened up a little box from the same jeweler, containing a ring with a bally lovely purple stone. “This is erm whatchamacallit.”

“Nothing is too much for you.”  He slipped the ring onto my finger.  “The jeweler ruined your surprise, but it gave me the opportunity to have him make you this.”

It was beautiful. “Oh, ah, thingummy.”

“I love you too, Bertie.”

I pulled him up beside me and we curled up together. I rather wanted a tumble. “Erm, Reg, ah whatsit?  Er, thing? That is to say, what? Ah, dash it!”

“Yes, darling, I would be delighted to have a tumble.  I believe the guest bed is freshly made up.”

 

 

 


	4. Jeeves and the Pearl Before Swine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeeves describes how he winds up all pruney and weepy. Bertie says "whatsit" quite a great deal and then does some mastering.

 

I had been in Paris many weeks, hoping that my young master would come to me.  The time passed not unpleasantly among my many friends and acquaintances there, but I was increasingly worried at the delay.  We had never been separated for so long in the more than ten years of our romantic attachment, and the separation followed on one of our longest periods of intimate estrangement. I had not had the heart to tell him why. It was only after weeks of solitude at home that I wondered if perhaps Mr. Wooster was gently removing himself from our attachment in the thought that I had lost sexual interest in him.

My residence was a small flat owned by Mr. Wooster, which we kept for casual use during the off season.  The flat was in a less fashionable part of the town, where we could live together without the constant fear of discovery.  Few of our connections knew where it was as Mr. Wooster tended to make his more formal visits during the season from the base of one of the more splendid hotels.  I had arranged to have our small shared home well fitted up and comfortable.  The bed was soft and commodious, covered with fine sheets and blankets, just as Mr. Wooster liked.  We had a small upright piano in the sitting room, deep cozy chairs, and a guest room that masqueraded as my ‘lair.’  I dearly loved this flat, this home, where we could live as a loving couple.

As the weeks stretched out, I slowly came to realize that Mr. Wooster might never come to join me, and that I had a difficult decision before me.  My flight from London was caused by a scandal—Mrs. Travers had written to assure me that it was all hushed up, but I still feared to return.  I could go back to the London flat and resume my duties, exposing myself to very grave danger, or I should leave and find myself another residence.  It was not right to continue to live in our flat without Mr. Wooster. The matter could not be discussed with any of our friends, and my heart throbbed with pain.  I found myself holding and treasuring a small jewel box, containing a ring adorned with a purple stone.  I had had it made for Mr. Wooster during our last trip to Florence.  He had purchased a ring as well, and I felt terribly foolish for thinking it had been intended for me. Perhaps he had already known that his heart truly belonged to another.

My housekeeping had grown lax under the strain of depression.  I spent sleepless nights in bed smoking, carelessly leaving the sheets for weeks. I had finally stopped at the Splendide to send Mr. Wooster a telegram, when I found a cable from him.  I could not possibly imagine a worse message.  He had turned to another, or possibly two others, casting himself like a pearl before swine.

To R. Jeeves

Rocky oozed back to New York although not in his pajamas. STOP

Good old Ginger taking me about the town. STOP

See how wrong you were about all that folderol with the slippers? STOP

Prepare for news. STOP

BWW

 

Had I been thinking more clearly, I would have sent the cable asking for his directions.  However, my emotions, much roughened by weeks of longing for my dear lover, were too much for me and I found myself seeking the company of my club acquaintances and drinking excessively. They understood that my heart had been broken and saw to it that I did not injure myself. I collapsed into the bed at dawn, heedless of the reek of smoke and spirits. How could he have succumbed to the advances of Mr. Winship or Mr. Todd? Had he given one of them the ring? I shuddered when I thought to the lengths I had gone to protect us.  Several months before, I had even had sexual congress with a woman.  The disgust I felt at my necessary indiscretions threatened to choke me

How would I ever bear this pain? I could not rest, and spent the day prowling the streets like a feral thing. The next night, I dressed myself neatly and again went out and drank to excess. As dawn began to redden the sky, I staggered into a cab and returned home, thinking regretfully that I likely would not be able to afford such indulgences again until I found another situation, worked twenty more years, and retired.  How could I reduce myself to mindless servitude again?

The sight of our shared bed nearly prostrated me, and after vomiting for several minutes, I retired into the bath with several slices of cucumber and a bottle of aspirins.  I scented the bath with my favorite salts, the ones Mr. Wooster did not care for. Tremblingly, I washed the reek of smoke and spirits from myself. My exhaustion of body, combined with the ravaged state of my heart and mind, soon dragged me into a deep slumber in the soothing warm water.  A banging noise awoke me some hours later.  The water had gone cold, and I was shriveled like a prune.  I swallowed more aspirin against the pain in my head and began to fish the slimy cucumber slices from the cold water, when I heard Mr. Wooster’s dear voice directing the disposition of a great number of packages and parcels.  I began to rise from the tub to greet him, but the emotions were simply too much, and I curled over sobbing in abject relief. I did my best to muffle the noise, intending to calm myself before welcoming Mr. Wooster home.

He heard me, dear man, and gently soothed my distress, tended to my evident exhaustion and even fed me dinner. This was unusual in our relationship. I will never forget the welcome feeling of his soft, warm hands on my bare flesh, or the uneasiness in his manner as he tucked me against his shoulder, stroking my hair and weeping himself.  He kissed each of my wrinkled fingertips and told me that I was a ‘bally lovely chap.’ He was so afraid that he was doing something wrong, and I was too distressed to help him.  He even tidied the flat without losing or breaking anything.

That evening, we exchanged rings and reaffirmed our mutual attachment. Darling Mr. Wooster became tongue-tied as we snuggled.  It had been many months since we had done more than kiss and cuddle, and we were both quite nervous.

“Reg, er, ah whatsit,” said Mr. Wooster in his sweetly endearing way.  I stroked his golden hair and kissed his forehead and each cheek before bending to taste his delicious lips.  He threaded his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, made a tender, hungry noise in the back of his throat, and moved forward, crawling into my lap to better press our bodies together.

“Darling,” I murmured as he wriggled sensuously against me pulling my robe open to expose me fully, his throbbing member straining in his trousers. “The guest bedroom is freshly made up.”

“Yes,” he gasped, fumbling open his buttons to press our bare skins together.  I pulled him up from the couch, and led him to the bedroom. We paused only to wrench the clothes from his body and kiss passionately.  How I had missed the sight of his lovely naked body.  He was so beautiful, and I will never forget the almost innocent way he gave himself over to our pleasure, falling on the coverlet, his proud member standing to attention, the small pearl of his desire glinting in the dim light. I could feel the way his breath caught in the back of this throat as he pulled me atop him and wrapped his legs around me.

“Reggie, I missed you,” he murmured, thrusting against me. “I love you.” I fumbled in the drawer for our usual unguents, but he reached down to cradle me with his tender hands and clasped my member between his thighs, sending me over the edge of ecstasy. I cried out his name. The sight of me coming undone led to his own release, and we huddled together, kissing and murmuring endearments to each other until we grew chilled.  I moved to crawl into the bed, but Mr. Wooster grasped my arm. “Let’s have a bathe together.  It’s been so long.”  He slid his fingers down to turn the ring on my finger.  “I wanted to buy you diamonds, Reggie.  Diamonds and pearls.”

“You purchased me a very fine set of pearl studs three years ago, sweetling,” I said, drawing him up and kissing him.  

We cleaned each other as the bath filled and then settled together, Mr. Wooster resting back against my larger form.  He pulled up my leg.  “Your toes are still pruney.”

“I fell asleep in the bath,” I said, kissing the sensitive skin at the back of his neck. “Thank-you for seeing to me.  It was the most wonderful sensation to feel you take charge.”

“It was?”

“Oh, yes.  I do enjoy your attentions.”  Mr. Wooster wriggled and said ‘whatsit,’ which often indicated that he was keen for amorous activities.  I could see his body confirm my suspicions and reached down to fondle him, whispering in his ear.  “You are very, very sexually appealing when you assert you mastery.”  He groaned and arched his back, and then, surprisingly, shifted and turned.

“Very well, then, Reggie,” he gasped, pulling me up from the water.  “Let’s back to the bed and I’ll master you a bit.”  I felt myself unfurl and harden. “Ah, I think you like that idea.”

We managed only to stagger to the master bedroom, which adjoined the bath, and Mr. Wooster pressed me down and made love to me in the smelly, sweaty sheets, looking a veritable god of perspiration and desire and he bent up my legs and entered me.  As young men, we had sometimes indulged in such activities for hours on end, but our endurance had waned somewhat as we aged.  Not so our enjoyment.  I thought I would die of the feeling of pleasure being joined to him intimately after many long weeks. My climax was so powerful that I lost myself. Afterward, I lay trembling and shaking in his arms, while he stroked my back and kissed me.  Then we slept.

Mr. Wooster’s gentle kisses woke me some hours later.  “Sorry, old fruit,” he murmured.  “I didn’t mean to wake you, but you look so dashed lovely.” I smiled and gave him a squeeze.  “Reggie, I er, that is…”  I stroked the golden hair from his forehead and rubbed the back of his neck while he composed himself. “The day you left so suddenly, I realized how much I loved you, that you are all-in-all to me.”

This surprised me deeply. “Then why did you stay away so long?”

“I didn’t understand how you felt.  It took weeks to find out what really happened, and then I needed to shake Rocky and Ginger. And there was business to do.  You know how slow I am about it without you.  I… we can’t go back really, can we?  It’s awfully dangerous for you.”

“Mrs. Travers attended to the matter.”

“So she says, but I…” Mr. Wooster’s face worked. “I love her dearly, but I do not think she understands.  It’s not safe for you any longer, even though you slept with that beazel.  Unless you leave me and work for another.  I won’t have it, so I had to do something.”

“What did you do, sweetness?”

He flushed in his darling way.  “I bought a country house for us in wildest Italy.  It’s a bit of a ruin, but it has gardens and a lake for fishing and we can grow our own vegetables and keep a cow and pigs and chickens.”

The image of Mr. Wooster tending to chickens rose up in my mind’s eye and I could not suppress a chuckle.  “Do you want to raise chickens, my own darling delight?”

“Don’t tease, Reg,” he said sternly, sending a shiver down my spine.

“I love it when you scold me,” I said.

“It’s…it’s dangerous.  We have to get out of the way for a while.  Something bad is going to happen."

His serious tone caught my attention. “The situation in Europe is bad, my love.”

“Yes, but we can probably ride it out there, or decide whether to join up when the war comes.”

“Darling?”

“I hadn’t been telling you everything I heard at the House, Reg, but it’s very bad.  We haven’t much time, and I wanted to… well, before we need to decide anything.  You’re too old to be drafted, but I, well, I may be…”  A cold fear gripped me. “I had to make arrangements with the solicitors about so many things, and when I go back next year for the House, if I… I just want you to be safe somewhere, and it will not remain safe here for long, I fear.”  He wrapped his arms and legs around me. “It’s not anywhere strategic. No one will want to invade it.”

How I wished he were slightly older, dear heart.  How could I have deserved to win him?  “When will we leave?”

“We have a few months, at least,” he said.

“Then let us have the honeymoon you discussed, my dearest love.”

“You are the most specific dream rabbit, Reggie.” And suddenly I knew that he was the very hero of my heart.

“Perhaps you will be so good as to master me again?”

His breath caught in his throat and he said “Er, whatsit,” and we made love until the dawn lighted the sky.  Although many years have passed and many joys have followed, that morning in Paris is burned in my memory as one of the happiest of my life. I never have forgotten Mr. Wooster's musky scent, the comforting feeling of his naked body in my arms or the fall of the rosy light across his dear features.  He was the very dearest man on earth and my heart swelled at the thought that he was my very own


End file.
